"No, no," rejoined Thames; "fly—or I will not answer for your safety. "Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave. With a faint view of overtaking them the pursuer urged his steed to a quicker pace. I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing. Spurling had retired for the night.
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